


A Handkerchief to Nowhere

by Drarry_Caught_The_Snitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Auror!Draco, Dragon Pox, Friends to Lovers, Good Draco Malfoy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sick Draco Malfoy, Sick Harry, Sick!Harry, Sickfic, sick!draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26658271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarry_Caught_The_Snitch/pseuds/Drarry_Caught_The_Snitch
Summary: Draco's only slightly under the weather when he and Harry get sent out on an Auror mission via a faulty portkey. But when a fatal error from Harry's past comes back to haunt him, the boys must face that their only way out is to depend on one another.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 184





	A Handkerchief to Nowhere

Draco could feel the warm sun rays beaming in through the window to his right, but as he sat at his desk at the Auror Office he admitted to himself that he was still quite chilled. It was getting hard to focus. He was on his third cup of Earl Grey tea that morning, but it was not doing much to ease the sluggishness headache he was suffering. As soon as he'd woken up that morning, he'd suspected he was coming down with something, but he'd been hoping it wouldn't affect his day too much. He'd just gotten over being ill three weeks ago. 

Draco glanced over at the messy desk across from his and found the equally messy mop of dark hair belonging to his Auror partner. Harry Potter was slouched over, scribbling furiously at a piece of parchment. There were stacks and stacks of paperwork littering the man's desk, some decorated with coffee rings, many decorated with spilled ink. The man was constantly in a state of disarray, and Draco loathed himself for finding it endearing. 

Down the hall, he could hear a few noisy Aurors discussing their plans for the weekend. Potter had invited Draco to join him at the Weasley's for Teddy's fifth birthday party on Saturday, and Draco was considering taking him up on the offer. Last time they'd been over at Andromeda's Teddy nearly talked his ear off about the party, and since the boy was his cousin, he really shouldn't miss it. 

Potter unconsciously licked his finger to get a better grip on the page he was turning, a Draco realized that he'd been staring again. Potter looked so engrossed in the paperwork, Draco was sure that Potter wouldn't notice if he closed his eyes for a moment. Resting his head on a propped up elbow and listening to the familiar calming sound of Potter's quill, Draco nodded off. 

. . . . . . . . . . 

He woke to Potter tenderly shaking his shoulder. “Wake up, you slacker. It's lunch-time.” Draco's eyes blinked open, and he saw Potter looming over him, frowning. “What's the matter this time?” 

“Sorry,” Draco mumbled. “Headache.” 

“Normal headache or coming down with the plague headache?” 

Being his partner, Harry knew that Draco suffered from a certain immunodeficiency disorder; his immune system didn't protect him from germs the way it should and as a result, he wound up catching every bug that went around the office. Harry took it upon himself to keep track of when the blonde was poorly and send him home when necessary. Doesn't do much good to rely on an Auror to have your back in the field if they were distracted by illness. That, and the fact that Harry was mildly in love with the git. He wanted to care for him. 

“... I may not be feeling my best Potter but I can assure you I am not coming down with the plague,“ Draco scoffed. 

“You were sick earlier this month, Malfoy. I believe you've already met your quota.” 

“Har har,” Draco replied, attempting a sneer. Harry just smirked at him. 

“Well, get up then. We're meeting Ron and Hermione in the cafeteria.” Draco made a face. 

“You go on without me. I need to catch up on all this,” he said, gesturing to the neat stack of paperwork in front of him. 

“You should eat.” Draco ignored him. “Are you not hungry? I can bring you back something for later?”

“I'm fine Potter. It's not that bad. It's not your job to question my dietary habits.” 

“You've been getting too thin.”

“You've been hanging out with Molly Weasley too much.” 

“I suppose that's fair. But it's not my fault you're alarmingly pointy.” Harry smiled, peering at him long enough to memorize the pallor of his skin. “I'm bringing you back soup,” he nodded, turning to leave their office. He heard Draco huff loudly at him as he walked away.

. . . . . . . . . . 

“Hello, Harry!” Hermione waved him over to their usual table. “No Malfoy?” She asked with eyebrows raised as Harry arrived at the cafeteria alone. Harry set his tray down across from her and Ron. 

“Not today.” He replied. “Pretty sure he's getting sick again.”

“I wonder who he caught it from this time,” Ron said. “I haven't heard of anything going around the office for at least two weeks I think.” Ron was Head Auror, so he was always informed of all the office gossip. He often warned Malfoy when someone in the department called out sick. 

Given all their history, it had taken Ron a while to admit that Malfoy was a surprisingly good Auror. When Harry had first gotten paired up with him early on in Auror training, Ron cornered the blonde and grilled him on having Harry's back out in the field. He didn't trust the bloke, but surprisingly Malfoy had never once let him down. Against all odds, it quickly became obvious to the entire office that Harry and Draco were well suited to one another as partners, and eventually, as friends. No one could talk sense into Harry quite like Malfoy could, and Harry needed someone to keep him in line. As much as Ron admired Harry for his Gryffindor bravery, he had to admit that Malfoy helped Harry analyze situations instead of jumping right in and getting hurt. He taught him to be critical, to slow down, and take precautions.

Ron figured that anyone who saved his best friend's arse out in the field more times than he could count deserved his friendship. And if Harry someday worked up the backbone to ask Malfoy out on a proper date, Ron supposed that would be alright too. 

. . . . . . . . . . 

Draco pulled the neck of his robe tighter and rubbed at the back of his neck. He truly wasn't feeling his best. He'd decided that he would finish his paperwork on their previous case and then ask Kingsley for the afternoon off so he could go home to rest. A good night's sleep ought to help his body fight whatever virus he's caught this time. 

Theodore Nott had been the first one to suggest that Draco get checked for an immunodeficiency disorder. Draco had visited St. Mungo's on four separate occasions during Theo's first rotation as an Apprentice Healer. He connected Draco to a specialist who agreed that his immune system was impaired, and who theorized that it was due to the extreme stress of enduring the Imperius curse for so long. 

Draco and his mother had both been under Lucius Malfoy's Imperius curse for the majority of Draco's seventh year. Lucius believed so strongly in the Dark Lord's power. He fought both his wife and son for their loyalty to the cause, and when it became evident that they wouldn't give themselves willingly, he took it upon himself to ensure that glory would come to the Malfoy name. Of course, he'd been wrong. 

Following the war, the Daily Prophet wrote an exclusive on all that Lucius Malfoy had done to his family. Draco had sold the story to them himself. All he had wanted was for him and his mother to have a fair chance at life after his father was finally behind bars. It had taken months of Auror questioning under veritaserum for Draco and his mother to finally be acquitted. They were both ordered to seek out Mind Healers after that, which Draco did, but it took even longer for him to realize the implications the curse had on his health. The specialist at St. Mungo's assured him that with proper food and exercise, his immune system would eventually recover. She'd advised adopting a low-stress lifestyle, but at that point, he was too far in Auror training to turn back. Draco wanted so badly to prove to the public that he could play the hero just as well as anyone who'd fought for the Light side in the war. He was sick and tired of being seen as the villain, or as the victim. And when he and Harry had defied all expectations and had actually become friends, Draco knew he'd never be able to quit his job. Not as long as Harry was his partner. 

A couple of harsh sneezes interrupted Draco's thoughts and it felt as though they burned a path all the way down to his chest. Summer colds were the worst. The frigid air being pumped into the office was making him shiver, and he set his paperwork aside to stand and crack open a window for some warm air. His muscles were beginning to feel sluggish. It was nothing too extreme, but he'd have to check for a fever later, and maybe firecall his Healer when he got home.

Just as he was about to sit back down, his wand began to buzz, which meant Kingsley had a field assignment for them. He frowned and went through his usual mental checklist to make sure he would be well enough to be out on the field. He wasn't dizzy or nauseous, and he didn't think he had a fever yet. Just a headache, chills, and mild fatigue. Nothing too bad. Some fresh, warm air would probably be good for him right now. 

Draco met up with Harry in the hall on their way to Kingsley and Harry shoved a lidded Styrofoam bowl of soup into his hands. The heat of it felt good on his skin. They continued down the hall, but a few paces before they reached Kingsley's office, Draco paused abruptly. Harry looked over his shoulder at him. 

“What?”

Draco waved a hand at him before scrunching his nose up and sneezing quickly in his elbow, nearly dropping the soup. He winced, swallowing hard. That definitely felt like it burned.

“You sure you're up for this?”

“I am,” He replied, after a moment of thought. “I think it's just a cold.” 

Of course, Harry had seen Draco with colds plenty of times before, and he remained unconvinced. 

“We can ask Kingsley to assign someone else...” 

“I'll be fine,” Draco defended stubbornly. The sides of his mouth turned up and with a single raised eyebrow he muttered under his breath, “Quit worrying, Mum,” before side-stepping Harry and walking into Kingsley's office to get the details of their mission. Harry laughed quietly to himself and followed him in. 

. . . . . . . . . . 

Some wizard had sent in a tip about strange activity seen at an old abandoned manor which belonged to a Death Eater in Azkaban. Harry and Draco had been assigned to go to the property in Scotland to check for anything unusual. The wizard reported that he had seen two men wearing dark cloaks carrying a large, heavy piece of furniture into the home. Given the nature of the previous homeowners, Kingsley was concerned about the possibility of it being a dark artifact. He gave Harry and Draco a portkey to get them there, and to Harry's amusement, it was a handkerchief. Seemed rather fitting for Draco at the moment. 

The men left Kingsley's office and walked back to theirs. As expected, Draco set off quickly to gather random supplies in his brown leather messenger bag. He brought it with him whenever they went out into the field, and Harry knew it was filled with everything from emergency potions, extra clothes, and even some snacks. 

Draco was one of the most prepared people Harry knew, second only to Hermione maybe. In fact, that bag reminded Harry of the one Hermione carried during the year they spent searching for Horcruxes. On more than one occasion Harry wondered if she'd been the one to give it to him in the first place. 

“Malfoy, you aren't going to need all that. We'll probably be gone for two hours tops.” 

“You never know, Potter. What if you run off and get us lost again?” He replied with a smile. 

“Twice. That only happened twice.” Harry rolled his eyes but stayed quiet, watching the blonde circle around the room in his usual dance to gather everything he wanted. He knew better than to fight Draco on this, the man would over-pack regardless. And if he was being honest, Draco's stupid bag helped them more times than he was willing to admit.

“Will you at least eat something first? Our portkey will stay active for at least another 20 minutes.”

Draco put his soup under a stasis charm on his desk but threw a couple of extra protein bars in his bag for good measure. “I'll eat later. As you said, this will be quick.”

“I don't really love that. You can take five minutes and eat.” 

Draco sighed. “I'm all not that hungry,” he said earnestly. “And your nagging is driving me a bit mad. I promise you I'll eat when we get back, alright?” 

“I guess,” Harry replied, giving him a long, hard look. 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Alright, I'm good,” he said with a sniff. “You ready?”

Harry nodded and held the handkerchief out to him. Draco's fingers grasped it tightly, his hand just centimeters under Harry's. A moment later they both felt a familiar tug on their belly buttons. 

After the dizzying blur of colors, the world righted itself again and the men took in their surroundings. To their surprise, they found themselves not in a secluded field in Scotland, but in what appeared to be a prison cell. The room was dark and damp, with a low ceiling. There was a barred window, revealing piles of snow and what looked like a blizzard outside. A chill slithered down Draco's spine. This wasn't right.

“Any chance you can you think of a place in Scotland where it snows in July?” Draco looked over to Harry and watched as his eyes darted rapidly around the dark room. The Ministry had never given them a faulty portkey before. 

“No. Can't think of anywhere in Scotland like this.” Harry dropped the handkerchief and glanced over at Draco with a twinge of fear in his eyes. He was breathing just a bit too fast. Given his upbringing, Harry didn't do well in small, dark spaces.

Draco reached out and squeezed the back of Harry's hand hard to ground him. “Well, Toto, I don't think we're in Britain anymore,” Draco smiled sheepishly, hoping the muggle film reference would diffuse some of his partner's anxiety. It didn't seem to help. 

We're fine, Harry.“ Draco moved away from him to pushed at the bars of the steel door. It wouldn't budge. Locked then. He pulled his wand out from his sleeve and pointed it at the lock.“Alohomora!” Nothing happened. He tried again, and then Harry brushed him aside to try and get them out. After about 10 minutes of them using every spell they could think of to try and get themselves out they finally had to accept that for now, they were stuck. 

“I can't think of anything else to try. We're going to have to wait here.” 

“How long until our portkey reactivates to bring us back to the ministry?” 

“Just under two hours.” 

Draco reached into his bag and pulled out small fleece cloth. He enlarged it into a thick fleece blanket before handing it to Harry. “I suppose we are going to have to make ourselves comfortable.”

. . . . . . . . . . 

“This was supposed to be an easy mission. We were supposed to have been home by now.” Harry whined for the third time that hour. They were trapped, and it was freezing. 

They were huddled together under Draco's blanket, sitting against the wall furthest from the window, but no matter where they were in the little cell, the walls and floor felt cold and damp against them. It was dark outside, but Draco spelled an orb of light onto the ceiling as a makeshift lamp with a spell Harry wasn't familiar with. They had been there for three hours, and each passing hour left Draco feeling marginally sicker. His head felt heavy, and he leaned sideways to rest it on Harry's shoulder. Of course, Harry let him. This was as close to cuddling as they'd ever done. 

“Okay. What do we know ...” Harry mumbled, more to himself than to Draco. “Our portkey didn't bring us to the right place, and it didn't bring us back when it was supposed to. 

“Our magic is working, but not to get us out.” Draco's fingers flicked at a piece of lint on the blanket that they'd had to put a heating charm on twice already. 

“I've sent a Patronus to the office, but no one's responded yet. And as far as I can tell, we are alone here. I can't trace any magical signatures on the lock or the window, so whatever is keeping us here isn't recent magic.” 

“I have enough food and supplies to last us the night, but not much more than that.” 

“And you're sick.” 

“Harry, I'm not too sick. Not yet anyway.” 

“Yes, but you are sick, and you could get worse and we need to be prepared for that,” He replied seriously. Harry could see that their time here was taking a toll on his partner. “It's nearly five o'clock in London. You should eat something out of your bag.” 

“I'm not hungry.” 

“Have you eaten anything since breakfast?” Harry asked, but Draco didn't reply.  
Scowling at the blonde, Harry clarified. “Did you eat breakfast?” 

“I had a lot of tea.” 

“Draco! Eat something. Now.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “But I wish I'd brought my soup. And don't even bother saying I told you so. I regret it well enough on my own. I've got some granola bars. You want one?” 

“Not yet, no. You eat. I'm gonna send another Patronus. I was thinking I ought to try Ron this time since Kingsley hasn't gotten back to us.”

“Good idea. Maybe try Granger as well.” Draco pulled out a granola bar but was only able to eat half before his aching throat decided to protest. He glanced warily at the other half of the bar before deciding to cover it carefully in the wrapper and save it for later. The persistent tickle in his nose and throat was beginning to drive him crazy. 

“Expecto Patronum!” Harry sent his stag out through the window, willing it to get to Ron or Hermione quickly. “Alright,” he said turning back to Draco who was still sat on the floor. “What do you have in your bag that we could transfigure to make this place more comfortable?” 

“Let me see. It'd be great if we could cover the window with something. At least attempt to keep all that snow from falling in on us.” Draco shivered and reached blindly into his bag. He pulled out a dish sponge. “Will this work for anything?” 

Harry couldn't help but laugh and the sheer unexpectedness. “Why do you have that?” 

Draco smiled tiredly up at him. “What do you mean?” He joked, “Doesn't everyone carry around a sponge with them?” 

“Can't say they do, mate. Here, give me that.” Harry took the sponge and with a few waved of his wand, transfigured it into a large mattress that would cover most of the floor of their cell. “Up,” he instructed and Draco stood to help him lower the mattress onto the floor. Harry then took off his outer robes. 

“Potter, don't. You're going to freeze.“ 

“It's fine, we'll enlarge your blanket.” Under his summer robes, Harry was wearing a thin navy blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and gray plaid trousers. Draco couldn't help but stare at his partner's tidy appearance. When he tried, the man was downright gorgeous. Actually, he could be gorgeous even when he wasn't trying. Draco thought back to last Friday when he and Harry celebrated closing a big case by going out for a drink together at Draco's favorite place, The Rainy Bell Tavern. Harry had gone home to change after work and had shown up wearing worn-out jeans and a simple black cotton V-neck that accentuated his chest. His toned muscles took Draco's breath away. Where Draco had always been long-limbed and wiry, Harry was solid and strong in all the right places. 

And just like their night at the pub, Draco had trouble tearing his eyes away. He chalked it up to a developing fever. 

Harry performed a couple of spells on his robes and then pressed the fabric taut against the edges of the window where it clung firmly.

“Water repellent, and a sticking charm. Should stay put for a bit.” It wasn't much, but they could already feel a slight difference in the cell without the gusty wind blowing in on them. Draco pulled out his wand and enlarged the blanket, smoothed it out over the mattress. 

“Better. Thanks.” Draco replied as Harry climbed back under the blanket with him again. Reaching back into his bag, Draco pulled out a thick blue sweater and pushed it into Harry's hands. "Put it on. Please?” he added and was grateful to see that for once, Harry did what he was told. Draco then pulled out some more clothes and transfigured them into pillows. They would be lumpy, but they would elevate his head which would be good for his sinuses. He passed a pillow to harry, who accepted it gratefully.

. . . . . . . . . . 

That strange burning sensation Draco felt earlier in his nose and throat was getting more intense, and it was pretty unlike any sort of pain he'd experienced before. He was a little concerned, but he chose not to give Harry any details that would make the man start to fuss again. They had enough to worry about being stuck in this hole.

“Would it be alright with you if I rest my eyes for a bit?” Draco asked, his voice sounding incredibly scratchy, probably from the cold air. He had half a mind to be embarrassed about it, but Harry had seen him ill enough times that it hardly made a difference anymore. 

“Of course. I think you should.” 

Draco could feel the green eyes boring into him, and he curled gracefully down into the transfigured mattress, adjusting the pillows and pulling the blanket up to his chin. His eyelids suddenly felt so heavy. “Will you sleep tonight?” 

“Maybe. I am pretty confident that we are alone here, but I'd feel more comfortable staying up to keep watch. And answer a Patronus if it arrives.” 

“Mhmm, okay,” Draco replied, already drifting off. The last thing he was aware of was Harry's cool, calloused hand brushing against his forehead.

Draco was definitely warm, but not alarmingly so. Harry would have to watch him throughout the night. He looked down from where he was sitting against the wall and questioned how Draco could still be so beautiful, even when sick. It baffled Harry how Draco could look like he did and not have people fawning after him all the time. In the year they'd been partnered together, Harry couldn't remember Draco ever talking about a relationship, or even a hook-up. Harry would know, they spent all week and much of the weekend together after. Logically, Harry knew that the public was still wary of Draco and Narcissa's loyalty after the war. He wasn't blind, he saw how witnesses frequently spoke directly to him and ignored Draco altogether. It made Harry's blood boil. Couldn't people see how strong Draco had been, enduring his own father's Imperius, and then going on to build a life for himself? 

But that was life. It wasn't fair, and it made him worry all the more each time Draco became ill because it all could have prevented if Draco's family had cherished him as they should have. Harry supposed he and Draco had that in common. 

Harry stared at the blonde a moment longer. Curiously, in this lighting, his skin seemed to be taking on a greenish hue. Harry didn't think about it much and instead searched through Draco's bag to see what potions and supplies they had on hand. He was embarrassed by how his heart swelled when he saw just how prepared Draco was for such an unexpected situation like this. Once again, they would've been much worse off if not for his stubborn preparedness. They had snacks, empty goblets to Aguamenti water in, and a variety of emergency potions. They would be alright for now. 

. . . . . . . . . . 

Only about two hours in, Draco began tossing and turning in his sleep. He was muttering incomprehensibly and it was clear that he was having a nightmare, but Harry wasn't sure whether to wake him up or just let him ride it out on his own. He gently reached out to feel in his fever had risen, but his hand froze in midair as Draco startled awake. His glazed eyes focused on Harry in a panic, and it took a long moment before his brain finally caught on the fact that he was not in any imminent danger. Breathing heavily, Draco immediately scrunched up his forehead in pain. 

“Alright, Malfoy?” 

Draco buried his face in his hands. “Mhmm. Just don't feel so great.” 

He sounded horribly congested. Harry took a deep breath and reached out to pull Draco's hands away, feeling his forehead, and then his flushed cheeks. “You're feverish.” 

Draco forcefully swatted Harry's hand. He looked at up with a pained expression before pushing himself up on one elbow and letting out a deafening and very un-Malfoy-like sneeze. Harry's eyes widened in surprise and he moved away just in time; as Draco sneezed, fiery sparks burst out of his nose. One landed on Draco's sleeve, and Harry rushed to pat down the spark before it could catch fire. 

“Ugh... My nose feels like its burning.” Draco moaned, rubbing a hand over his face once again and flopping back down ungracefully onto the pillows. His hand rested over his eyes, and it was a pitiful sight.

“It may actually be burning,” Harry said, quickly. The distress was evident in his voice. “I think... Draco, you've caught Dragon Pox!” he said, noticing the beginnings of a green and purple rash spreading its way out from between Draco's fingers. 

Draco peeked out from under his hand, his dull silver eyes meeting very concerned green ones. He saw that rash as well, but he only blinked tiredly at it. “Mmm, figures, doesn't it. Couldn't have just been a simple, boring cold,” he swallowed. “Hurts to talk.” 

Harry's thoughts were racing. “We don't have tea, but I can try and heat some water for you to drink if you like? Might be good for your throat.” 

“No, nothing hot. My insides feel like they are on fire already. Can you spell me a goblet of cold water?” 

“Of course!” Harry grabbed his wand and touched it to the rim of a goblet from Draco's bag, filling it quickly. He waited patiently for Draco to pull himself up to a sitting position, which seemed to take a lot out of him, and then held the glass to his lips. Draco took a few sips before settling back down on their makeshift bed. 

“Malfoy, exactly how bad is this?” Harry asked. “I mean, I have never seen anyone with Dragon Pox before. I know my grandparents died from it.” 

Draco sighed. “My Grandfather did too. But they were old when they caught it. And it really isn't as severe as it used to be. The vaccine should make it relatively mild.” 

“The vaccine?” 

“Yeah, one of the ones we were given before Hogwarts.”

“We were vaccinated?” 

Draco dropped his hand from his face and pushed himself back up on his elbows, speaking slowly. “Yes? We were vaccinated. It was mandatory, written in our initial Hogwarts letter? Don't you remember?” 

Harry's eyebrows shot up and he unconsciously leaned away from Draco. “No. I never read my Hogwarts letter. My uncle prevented me from reading it. I only found out when Hagrid came for me.” 

Draco shook his head in disbelief. “Surely someone would have made sure you got your proper vaccinations. Madam Pomfrey must've done it.” 

Harry shook his head, running a hand through his already messy hair.  
“She didn't, I don't think. I would have remembered.” 

“Okay, but the one at eleven was a booster shot. We got the initial vaccine when we were younger, maybe three or four.” 

“Draco, my relatives never took me to any muggle doctors, let alone a wizarding one!” 

“That can't be possible. Besides, we all had to provide proof of immunizations with our application to start Auror training.” Draco watched as Harry's face morphed from confusion to full-blown panic. 

“Malfoy, I never applied to be an Auror! Robards recruited me after the war, and I just accepted. I never applied!” 

“You've never received any of your wizarding vaccines?” 

“I didn't even know the wizarding world had vaccines!”

“...shit!” Draco scrambled up and away from Harry, but who knows how long he may have been contagious for. They'd been huddled under the same blanket for nearly six hours. “Potter, we've got to get out!” He was breathing heavily from the exertion of standing and Harry could see beads of sweat forming hear his hairline. His green-tinged skin looked almost translucent. 

“We tried! We already tried. There's no way out! We have to wait for help, and you need to sit back down before you collapse or something. You've barely eaten today.” 

“I can't Potter! This is highly contagious.” He scratched at the rash on his fingers and realized his hands were shaking. 

“I know, Malfoy,” Harry sighed. “But look, I'm not the one who's sick right now. You are. If I get this and we are still locked in here, then we'll just have to deal with that then. But right now, please, just lay back down and let me help you, alright?”

Draco remained standing, and Harry was briefly distracted by the way the blonde was worrying his bottom lip. Now was not the time.

“Please?” He asked again with a slight smile, and Draco begrudgingly laid back down, albeit much further from Harry than he had been, to begin with. “Are you warm enough?” 

Draco shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose. It's hard to tell, the burning is so distracting.” 

“Where does it burn?” 

“My chest mostly, and my nose and throat.” 

Harry made a low sound of sympathy and handed Draco the cool goblet of water. He ran a hand through his hair again, wondering what was taking the Aurors so long to find them. He laid a hand across Draco's brow, which made the man flinch. “You're pretty warm, do you want to take a fever reducer?” 

“How many did I pack?” 

“Three.” 

“No. Let's wait until... well, let's just hold off on using up the potions. I just want to go back to sleep,” he answered, his eyelids feeling heavy. 

Harry brushed a stray lock of hair off of Draco's face, allowing his fingers to trail down the man's burning cheek for a few seconds longer than necessary. He knew he shouldn't be touching him if he hadn't been vaccinated, but he figured the damage was done.“Sleep, then. I'll be right here.”

. . . . . . . . . . 

Another four hours later, and it was evident to Harry that he wouldn't be able to stay awake the entire night. He had eaten a protein bar from the bag, hoping that would give him a burst of energy. It worked for a while, but it was wearing off, and he was developing a persistent headache, though from exhaustion or stress he wasn't sure. He sat still for a long while, listening to Draco's congested breathing and willing his eyes to stay open, but it was a losing battle. 

Finally admitting defeat, Harry spelled some wards to wake him if anyone approached the cell, or if they received word from the office. His robes on the window were only doing so much to keep the cold away, and he was wary of putting up another heating charm with Draco's rising fever. In the end, he decided on placing a personal warming charm on the sweater he was wearing. Draco's sweater. Which smelled like him, as did the blanket and pillows, and Draco himself, who lay not a foot from Harry. For all the times' Harry had fantasized about the first time he and Draco might share a bed, this was not what he'd envisioned. He rolled over to face the blonde and saw that his brow was furrowed tightly in his sleep. Another nightmare, Harry supposed. He knew Draco had them regularly. Harry reached out from under the blanket and took Draco's hand into his, his thumb rubbing small circles onto the man's palm in an attempt to calm him. The repetitive motion relaxed Harry, and he soon drifted off to sleep, his hand still entwined with Draco's.

. . . . . . . . . . 

“Potter...” A rough voice called, prying Harry from sleep far too soon. “Come on Harry, wake up for me.” Harry tried to open his eyes, but it was too difficult. His entire body felt like it was too heavy for him to bear. 

“Go 'way.” 

He could hear Draco's relieved breath. “Come on Potter. Up.” 

Harry worked his eyes open to see Draco looming over him. There were bright streaks of mid-day light seeping around the edges of their makeshift window cover. Draco's skin looked even more green and pockmarks were peeking out from the neckline of his robes. His eyes were drawn down to Draco's lips, which were pulled downward in a tight, tense line. “What'sa matter?”

“You're too hot.” 

“Erm... thank you?” Harry replied, confused. His sleep-addled brain was only working at half speed. 

“No you ponce, you're burning up with a fever. You're sick.” 

“Oh,” Harry replied lamely. “Can I go back to sleep then?” His eyes were already shutting.

Draco reached out to grab him under the arms and pulled him up to sitting although his muscles ached with the effort. “Not yet. Take this.” He pushed and uncorked vial of fever reducer into Harry's hands, and watched as the brunette drank obediently. In the year since they'd become friends, Harry had helped Draco recover from illnesses dozens of times. This was the first time Draco had ever seen Harry sick, and he seemed to be much more pliable than Draco had anticipated. 

Harry winced at the taste and wiped a hand over his mouth. He was startled by the ugly purple and green rash covering his hand and wrist. He pushed up his sleeve and saw that it spread nearly up to his elbow. Draco saw the way Harry's face fell, and it nearly broke his heart when he looked up at him with those sad, glassy green eyes. “I'm sorry...”

“What? No, Harry. I'm sorry! I'm the one you caught this from.” 

“It's not your fault. No one got me vaccinated as a kid.” Harry's blinked at the sudden onslaught of tears. “No one cared...” 

“Hey. Stop that. I'm here now, and I care, alright?” 

“But... but I can't take care of you like I'm supposed to if I'm sick.” A big tear-streaked it's way down Harry's cheek.

Draco wasn't exactly shocked by the selflessness Harry's fevered brain was resorting to, but he'd very rarely seen the man cry, and it worried him. “Quit it,” he said gently, wiping the tear away with his thumb, “This is just your fever talking. We're sick together now, so we're just going to have to take care of each other. Like we always do when we're out in the field, right?”

Harry nodded, hesitantly, sniffing. “What time is it?” 

“It's light outside again, but I've lost track of how long we've been here.”

“Me to,” he replied, swallowing. His throat burned. “I want to go home.” 

“We'll be out of here soon. I'm sure of it. Granger's like a bloodhound with these things and Weasley will stop and nothing to protect you. You have good friends who are out there looking for you right now. You know that.”

“I have good friends,” he agreed, and then after a moment of thought he asked, “We're friends, right Draco?” 

“What? Potter, don't be daft. Of course, we're friends.” he laughed. “Don't tell Pansy, but we might even be best friends.” Harry nodded, barely reacting, and Draco wondered if he'd remember this conversation when he woke up next. He helped Harry sink back down to the pillow and then laid down himself. 

“It's good you're here with me, Malfoy.” 

Draco frowned. Harry got sick so fast, which made Draco anxious. If it weren't for him and his useless immune system, Harry wouldn't have even gotten sick like this in the first place. He was angry at himself, at his body. He was angry at Harry's good for nothing relatives.

. . . . . . . . . . 

That day was one of the longest Draco could remember. He now had absolute certainty that Harry hadn't received the proper vaccinations. Even Draco's sluggish immune system was doing a much better job of fighting this virus than Harry's. The fever reducer worked for a bit, but then Draco had to resort to peeling the blue sweater off of Harry's fevered torso. He spelled a cool wet rag for Harry's head, and the man slept on. Draco could see close to double the pockmarks on Harry as he had on himself, and his skin had turned a dark, foreboding green shade. Draco tried his best to rest in between Harry's fevered tossing and turning, but both of their sneezing fits were becoming more frequent. Seven times he'd had to extinguish fires caused by Harry's sneezes, and only thrice for his own.

Draco spent at least an hour trying to apparate, break the bars on the door, anything to get them out. He was exhausted. Harry sneezed again, which sparked but didn't ignite. He groaned at the pain of it, and reached out to Draco, taking in a labored breath.

“Harry, are you awake?” 

Harry nodded, and rolled over, taking the rag off of his head and pressing his face into Draco's chest. Draco held him for a long moment. “I feel like I can’t breathe, it hurts so much,” he mumbled quietly.

Draco frowned. “I know you're hurting. Think you can drink some water for me?” The brunette weakly shook his head. 

“No? Where's that Gryffindor courage you're always bragging about?” 

“Don't know. Vacation probably.” 

Draco looked down a Harry with a smile, holding him close. Even an ounce of the man's usual sarcasm put his heart at ease, though his shallow breathing was sounding increasingly labored. 

Draco looked at the cloak covering the window, swallowing down the burn in his own throat. It had been hours since any light seeped through the fabric, so it must be night again. That meant they'd been there for a day and a half already. What was taking so long?  
. . . . . . . . . . 

Four Days. That is how long it took for them to be found. 

Draco held Harry up against his chest as Harry coughed and coughed. At some point, Harry had removed his tailored shirt, and Draco could feel so much heat radiating off him. He tried massing a hand over Harry's bare chest, his back, even his throat, but nothing was helping. Each desperate inhale fueled the fire raging inside of Harry's body.  
That's what Draco was afraid of. His own throat and chest burned, but Harry sounded much worse. At what point would Harry find it too painful to breathe? 

“Shh, shh, you're okay. I've got you. You're okay.” Draco chanted nonsensically. Though it was only minutes, it felt like hours until Harry stopped coughing.

“Water?” He choked out, and Draco immediately raised the goblet to his lips. The water helped, but only marginally. “This all just keeps going from bad to worse,” he murmured quietly. Once Harry was done, Draco set the goblet aside and pulled out their last fever reducer and pain potion. He uncorked them and fed them to Harry one at a time. 

“Draco,” Harry wheezed, “I'm scared.” 

Draco was terrified, but he wasn't about to tell that to Harry. The man needed him to be the strong one for once. “It's okay Harry. It's only temporary. You're going to be okay.” Harry was trembling in Draco's arms, though from fear of fever Draco didn't know. 

“I need you,” Harry mumbled, nonsensically, fumbling for Draco's hand.

“I'm right here.” 

“No, I mean my heart. It needs you.” 

Draco raised his eyebrows. He's suspected that Harry had feelings for him for some time. He certainly didn't expect to hear it like this. 

“Promise me,” Harry continued, “Promise me you won't let them take me away.” 

“Who, Harry? There's no one here but us.” 

“The Dursleys.” 

“Please,” Draco whispered, begging, although to who, he didn't know. “Please let him be okay. Please let us get out here soon.” 

It was as if the universe itself heard his plea. The words barely left his mouth when the heard the clamor of people running down the hall. “Harry! Malfoy?” Draco recognized Ron Weasley's voice. 

“Here!” He yelled back. “Weasley, we're here!” His yelling caused a coughing fit of his own, and Harry climbed away from him to give him room to catch his breath. 

“Harry! Malfoy!” 

It was Hermione's voice this time, and she suddenly appeared on the other side of the bars, along with Ron and a team of 4 other Aurors. Pansy was there as well, and Draco had no doubt she used her status as an unspeakable to persuade them to let her come on the rescue mission. 

“We need help,” Harry tried to say, but he was nearly incomprehensible with all the cracks his voice made. 

“You guys have Dragon Pox? How in the hell did you manage to catch that?” Ron asked astonishingly. Hermione made quick work of the bars using some kind of laser tool to cut clean through them. 

“We need to get him to St. Mungo's right now!” Draco exclaimed as the team barreled their way into the cell. “He never got vaccinated.” Harry was exhaustedly sinking back down onto their makeshift mattress. 

“Never...? Malfoy, I don't understand,” Hermione exclaimed, sitting down next to Harry and beginning to fuss over him. 

“I'll explain later. Please, just take him!” 

“It's okay now. We'll take care of him,” Pansy said in her most reassuring tone. She knelt beside Draco and took one of his hands in his. “How are you feeling?” 

“I don't even know anymore. We've been so worried.” 

She could see the tired lines throughout his green-tinged face. She brushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “I gotta say, D, I don't think green is really your color.” 

Draco laughed at her, only now realizing how much energy he'd spent worrying over his partner. He was ready to sleep for a week. 

“Hermione, he's barely lucid,” Ron complained, trying to pull Harry to his feet while one of the Aurors worked on packing up their makeshift sickroom. Once upright, Harry elbowed Ron away from him to sneeze, making the redhead yelp at the sudden sparks hitting his robes. 

“Welcome to my hell, Weasley,” Draco said, getting up to hand Harry their goblet of water, again. Draco overestimated his strength and swayed dangerously. Weasley shot out the hand that wasn't holding up Harry to pull at Draco's wrist before he tumbled sideways. Pansy pushed over to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist to help stabilize him. 

“Alright team, what do you say we get these two blokes out of here, and deal with the rest of the case later?” Ron asked, and the team nodded in agreement. Hermione doled out portkeys, and within seconds, the dungeon cell was empty. 

. . . . . . . . . . 

St. Mungo's kept Draco and Harry together in adjoining beds, and the room was an overwhelming flurry of activity. Harry slept through most of it, And Draco fought to stay awake to help answer the Healer's questions. 

“Their fevers are probably a good thing,” One Healer said to another, “Or else we'd be dealing with hypothermia.” 

“Patient B is still clocking in at a temperature of 39.8 though. He's burning through the fever-reducing potion.” 

“Why don't we hook him up to a muggle IV?” 

“What's the status of Patient A?” 

“38.2, he seems to be responding properly.” 

“Mr. Malfoy, do you have any idea who you might have caught Dragon Pox from? Who you came in contact with before you began experiencing symptoms?” 

“I'm honestly not sure. I mean, our work on the field puts us in contact with a lot of different people.” 

“Is there any possibility that either you or Mr. Potter frequented The Rainy Bell Tavern in London within the last two weeks?” 

“The tavern? Yes! I am a regular customer there. Potter and I went together last Friday to celebrate our closing a major case.” 

The Healer nodded. “I see. We have had several cases tracked from that pub this week. The bartender seems to be our patient zero.” 

Harry interrupted their conversation with a coughing fit, and Draco glanced over just in time to see him emit sparks in between his coughs, presumably from his lungs. 

“Sir,” The Healer to Harry's left spoke to the one who'd been talking with Draco, “The infection has spread to his lungs. It's more advanced than we thought.”

“We need to get him into a pressure chamber and pump the air with potions to clear the smoke in his lungs.” 

As the Healers began to unhook Harry's machines to wheel him away, Draco felt himself panic. “You're taking him away?” He could hear his heartbeat increase rapidly in the beeps of his monitor. What if something happened to Harry, and Draco wasn't there for him? He promised to be there for him.

“Mr. Malfoy, we need to get him to respond to treatment quickly. It's the most effective way.” 

“And if something happens to him?” 

“We are in communication with his adoptive family. The waiting room is packed with them. I'm sure they will keep you updated.” 

“The Weasleys? The hell with them. I need you to keep me updated about him first!” 

“I am going to ask you to calm down Mr. Malfoy. Yelling about this isn't going to benefit either of you.” Harry's wide green eyes met Draco's as the Healers pushed him in his bed out of the room. 

“Do something, Healer Lawson.” The healer glanced up over Draco's shoulder. “Before he goes into a full-blown panic attack. Draco barely noticed their interaction. 

“Please! Can't I go with him? I'm not that sick. I'll stay out of your way! I have to be with him!” His heartbeat continued to rev up and he could hear rushing in his years. A Healer who Draco didn't see to his right grasped his chin and held a potion vial to his mouth, knocking the contents of it down his throat. He was only able to yell out one final remark before his world closed into darkness.

“I love him!”  
. . . . . . . . . . 

“Hey,” a voice spoke. The voice was low and raspy, but there was something overwhelmingly comforting about it. “Are you ever going to wake up, you lazy sod?” 

Draco pried his eyes open. Beside him, Harry was sitting up in bed. Weasley and Granger sat beside him, and Granger's small hand was firmly clasped in Harry's. 

“You're okay?” His voice sounded awful. 

“We should really be asking that of you, you know,” Weasley supplied. 

“We had to sedate you. But then you got sicker.” 

Draco looked to his other side to see Theodore Nott and Pansy sitting beside him. 

“I did?” 

“Takes a lot of energy away from your healing to be worried sick over someone you love, doesn't it?” Pansy smirked. 

“Pans!” Draco exclaimed.

“I think we better give our boys a second to themselves,” Hermione said, letting go of Harry's hand and standing. The rest of their friends followed her out of the room. Draco could feel the blush burning through his cheeks. 

“So,” he started, in an attempt to change the conversation, “You look better. Healthier.” It was true. Harry's skin was beginning to fade back to it's usual, non-green color. The pockmarks were healing, and Draco doubted there would be much scarring. He hoped he looked the same. 

“Nope. You're not getting out of this that easily.” 

“I never said that I loved-” 

“You did, actually. Although apparently you were being drugged at the time,” Harry smirked. The bastard. 

“We were both going through something traumatic. And I probably had a fever and-” 

“I love you too, you idiot.” 

That stopped Draco's rant. “You do?” 

“Of course.” 

“Oh,” Draco replied, dumbfounded.

“In fact, I propose we go out for a proper date when they let us out of here. Which is something I should have asked you for a long time ago.” 

“Well. Alright then. But we are not going to The Rainy Bell Tavern.” 

“No? You love it there.” 

“Not anymore. I heard the bartender there came down with dragon pox last week.” 

“Oh. Well I wouldn't want us to catch that,” Harry laughed, and the sound of it took Draco's breath away. 

. . . . . . . . . . 

“But did you ever catch the bastards?” 

“The ones who tampered with your portkey and got you two stuck in no-mans-land? Oh yeah. Big time.”

Draco, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together at their usual lunch seat in the ministry cafeteria. Except now Harry and Draco sat a little closer to one another then they used to. 

“Do we know what happened? Why they did it? What was going on at that manor in Scotland? 

“Malfoy, how am I supposed to answer all your questions with my mouth full?” 

“Ronald!” 

“Okay! But can't you just settle with the fact that we caught the bad guys, you ended up with your lover-boy, and we all lived to tell the tale?” 

And so they did.


End file.
